


Drowning in the Hell That I Raised

by strangergrove



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Child Abuse, Explicit Language, F slur, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Depression, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangergrove/pseuds/strangergrove
Summary: Billy knows the all-consuming fire. He's lived with it his whole life. He also knows the sweet bliss of numbing nothingness, because he's learned to close himself off, shut down. What other choice does he have? None, until Steve Harrington crashes into his life, snuffing out the fire and draining that cold numbness from his bones. Giving Billy another option. A way out.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington
Comments: 36
Kudos: 71





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first solo fic on here, so any comments are greatly appreciated! Thank you all for reading!
> 
> WARNING: This fic will have scenes of abuse.

The Camaro screeched to a stop, the engine growling in the cold night air. Smoke snaked from the small space in the window, accompanied by the thundering of hair metal. Behind the dark glass of the windshield, hands gripped the steering wheel until their knuckles turned white. 

"Fuck!" Billy screamed, spit and blood flecking the dash in front of him. 

He wiped at his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. Both had started bleeding again. The sight of the red on his skin did something strange to him. A liquid cold spilled through his veins, numbing him slowly. It soothed the ache in his face and ribs, the utter agony in his heart, the splitting pain in that part of his mind he never tried to look at. And, finally, it stopped the tears that had dared to spill down his cheeks. He fucking hated crying. Yet here he was, in the middle of the night in bum-fuck nowhere, crying in his fucking car. Jesus, if his dad could see him now… 

Billy ran his sleeve under each eye, combed his curls out of his face, and hit the gas. Tires screamed before they gripped the road, propelling the Camaro forward at a sickening speed. The night ripped open before him, spilling stardust on the rain-soaked pavement. The car's exhaust was a cloud behind him, obscuring the world he would be better off leaving behind, a world that didn't want him any more than his parents did, any more than  _ anyone _ ever had. 

He could see it now, burning rubber until the sun kissed his face in San Diego, welcoming him home, where the ocean was waiting, where nothing could ever leave its marks like handprints on his skin. His entire being craved it, craved the rush, the release. But there was an anchor tied to his throat, keeping him in this shit hole of a hick town. Fucking Max. 

The Camaro's engine let out a gutteral scream as Billy charged blindly into the night. The speedometer ticked dangerously higher, but those blue eyes were set on the horizon, on a future he knew he would never make it to. Billy gripped the steering wheel even harder, knowing it would only take one second, one tiny mistake, and there would be nothing left of him to hurt. What would his father gouge his anger into then? 

Max. Of course it would be Max. The thought clawed its way through his mind, marring every silver hope and dream he had dared to conceive. The Camaro quieted to a purr, the speedometer dropping low again. It was always Max, the little shitbird, binding him to his father. Billy flicked his cigarette out the window, watching the cherry burst into a shower of sparks in his side view mirror. He needed to go back home, tail between his legs, apologize to his dad, take whatever was in store for him, and drink himself into oblivion. Because that was the smartest way to deal with his bullshit, right?

So, naturally, he kept driving. Kept putting distance between himself and the only thing that could suck the numbing bliss from his bones. He would run until he hit the edge of town, and then… Well, his dad wouldn't wait up for him forever, no matter how badly his knuckles itched. He could wait it out. 

The night dragged on, an endless pool of pavement and trees and starlight. It was almost nice, the way it was so quiet out here, so void of the stain of humans. Almost. But it wasn't Cali, and it wasn't home. Max would be old enough to move out in a few years, which meant only a few more years until Billy could just  _ disappear _ . A few years. Oh God. 

But something had just caught his attention, and his thoughts scattered. A car was pulled over onto the shoulder, driver door gaping open. A figure stood a way down the road, on the edge of the ditch, staring into the woods. They held something odd in their hand, long and studded with spikes. 

Billy pulled over slowly, not taking his eyes from the figure. Either they were deaf and didn't hear the Camaro idling a few yards from them, or something serious had drawn their attention. More out of curiosity than any real concern for the person standing alone in the middle of nowhere at midnight, Billy turned his car off and got out to see what the Hell was going on. 

It wasn't until he was almost on top of the guy that he recognized him, recognized that stupid puff of hair. Fucking Harrington. Honestly, he should have recognized him sooner, what with the number of times he had the audacity to show up in Billy's dreams. "The Hell you doing out here, man?" 

Harrington didn't even look over at him, just made a frantic shushing sound. His eyes were darting back and forth, intent on the woods in front of them. Something rustled not far from them. Billy hardly noticed. 

"You usually make a habit of threatening trees with a-" Billy looked down at what was in Harrington's hand, "nail bat?" 

"Jesus, Hargrove," Harrington hissed, "for once in your life, just shut the fuck up." He didn't sound angry so much as scared. Good. Who the fuck did he think he was?

"Y'know, Harrington, I-" 

"I'm fucking serious!" Harrington whipped his head toward Billy. His eyes instantly went wide and he made an odd gesture, almost as if to touch Billy's face. "You're bleeding." His voice was quiet, distant, like he was at the other end of a dark tunnel. 

The statement made the numbness in Billy's bones shift. It was coming undone, unraveling quickly and cruelly. He clung to it like a lifeline, feeling the burn as it slipped through his fingers. "Yeah, I'm bleeding, asshole. The fuck you care?" 

Harrington grabbed Billy's jacket and yanked him toward his car. "We need to get the fuck out of here."

Billy shoved the other boy's hands away. "Get off me. I'm not going anywhere with you."

Harrington grabbed him again. "You don't understand. It's not safe. Will you stop?" He kept trying to push Billy toward his car, but the blonde would have none of it. 

"Get your fucking hands off me. I mean it. I'm not in the mood for your bullshit tonight, Harrington." Billy sneered at him and his teeth were covered in the blood beading at the split in his lip. 

His heart was kicking harder than he would have liked and the way the world was crashing in on him made him nauseous. God, his body was not ready for this, but he'd beat Harrington's ass again if he had to. God knew that was  _ not _ what he wanted to do to him, but if it came to it… But the boy was stepping away, throwing his hands in the air. 

"Look," he said, fear dripping from his voice, "it's not safe here. Something's out there. It can probably smell your blood. Just- please leave. I don't care where you go, as long as it's far away from here." 

Billy took a step toward the woods. What was out there that had Harrington's panties in such a bunch? Another bear? Seeing no movement between the dense rows of trees, he sighed. 

"Whatever. You're fucking weird, man. Don't need that shit rubbing off on me." 

Billy made his way back to the Camaro and climbed in. As soon as Harrington pulled away, he let out a shaky breath. His veins were on fire. Kerosene slicked the inside of his ribs, dripping down to ignite in his stomach. His bones were searing, white hot, and he had nothing to cool them. Unless… 

The woods were ungodly dark. He felt half blind, half dead, shivering and alone. The trees seemed to bend in around him, swallowing up what little moonlight was filtering in through their canopies. If the thing Harrington had been afraid of really was in here, Billy would find it. What he would do then, well, he didn't really know. Didn't really care. Maybe he'd fight it. Maybe he'd just give in. 

It didn't take long for the cold to really set it. His fingers were numb before his pace even slowed, before he grew wary of how very quiet it was. He should have turned back by now. Shouldn't have even come out here in the first place. But what else was he supposed to do? Go home? Spend the night in the back seat of the Camaro? 

\---

Billy awoke when the sunlight lazing in through the windshield fell across his face. His bones felt like they'd been splintered some time in the night and were now poking straight through his flesh. Bruises pooled in dark spots across his skin, black and blue and blush. A scab had formed on his lip, but it tore open when he grimaced, and fresh blood trailed its way down his chin. 

He licked at his tender lip and groaned. Jesus fuck, it was like death itself had tried to climb inside his body while he was sleeping and decided  _ even it _ didn't want anything to do with him, but the damage had already been done. Maybe he shouldn't have wandered around the woods for an hour in the freezing cold so soon after getting his shit kicked in. Certainly didn't do him any good. 

He groaned again, for good measure, and angrily threw the Camaro into drive. He prayed his dad wouldn't be home when he got there, that it would just be Max waiting for him to give her a ride to school. He wondered if she even knew he wasn't home. 

Billy sat in the driveway for a few minutes, the Camaro silent, his head resting on the steering wheel, Krokus lilting from the stereo. His father's GMC was still parked in the driveway and Billy wasn't sure he had the strength to face him just then. His body felt like it would cave in on itself if a gentle breeze so much as blew in his general direction. He was a fucking mess.

But before he could finish giving himself a pep talk, Billy caught the flash of Max's hair ablaze in the golden light of the morning. She bounded over to his car and yanked the door open. 

"Where have you been? Your dad's pissed," Max huffed, climbing into the passenger seat. She looked over at him and scrunched up her face. "Jesus, you look like shit." 

Billy sneered at her. "You don't look much better yourself, shitbird."

He should have kept his mouth shut. It wasn't Max's fault. She didn't know the precise breed of monster Neil was, never had to witness it. Susan always seemed to sense the storm approaching and whisked her daughter away before shit hit the fan. If only Billy had such a luxury. So when Neil came into Billy's room last night, liquor on his breath, a distinct itch under his skin, and some half-baked notion that Billy had spent Saturday night vandalizing an old, rundown steel works building with a select group of friends--which, in all fairness, he had, but there was no way Neil could have known it was Billy--Susan took Max into town to get dinner. Billy was gone by the time they got back. 

Max slammed the car door shut and Billy jumped. She sighed, "You get in a fight with Steve again?" 

Billy didn't answer, just started up the Camaro and backed out of the driveway. As he pulled off down the road, he caught a glimpse of his father in the window. Billy wondered if avoiding him was only going to make things worse. 

The rest of the drive to school was silent. Max stared out the window, fiddling with one of the wheels on her skateboard. Billy's knuckles were turning white as he drove, gripping the steering wheel to the point he started to lose feeling in his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, Billy could see Max glance over at him every now and then, but he never looked back at her. He didn't know what to say if she tried to ask him anything again, so he didn't encourage it. 

He leaned against the hood of his car, watching Max skate off toward the middle school, and lit a cigarette. His head was definitely not in the right place for school, but if his dad found out he'd skipped class, on top of everything else happening right then, he was dead. And in that moment it was so tempting, but then he caught sight of Max throwing open the school doors and he just couldn't. She needed him, even if she thought she didn't, even if she couldn't stand him. 

"God, man, how do you look worse than last night?" Harrington asked as he walked by. 

Billy just stared at him a moment, cigarette now clenched between his teeth. His head spun, the events of last night, both at home and with Steve, still sticking to him. "The fuck was that even about? There was nothing out there. I looked. For an hour."

The other boy stopped, his body visibly going tense. "You did  _ what?"  _ he asked, slowly turning toward Billy, who just shrugged. "Are you  _ fucking stupid?"  _

Wrong move, even for King Steve. Billy was a lot of things, but he wasn't fucking stupid. Before he knew what was happening, he had Harrington on the ground, straddling him, the boy's collar balled up in his fists, and he was spitting fucking venom. 

"Insult me again, Harrington, and the last time I beat the shit out of you will seem like a fucking pillow fight." 

Images of that night stabbed at Billy's mind, reopening wounds he'd been trying to close for months. He shook his head and focused on the Harrington before him now, not the one that had bled unconsciously beneath him as he lost all control. They sat there, staring daggers at each other, Billy suddenly very aware of how close Steve's dick was to his own. It did weird things to him, and now the fire in his gut was shifting. Billy shoved him hard into the cold pavement of the parking lot before straightening and stepping over him. He had to get out of there. He let out a deep sigh and looked back down at Harrington, who was staring up at him, face full of anger and disgust. Billy turned and headed toward the school. He didn't want to see that look. Not in  _ those _ eyes. 

"The Hell is your problem, man?" Harrington asked, climbing to his feet. "I was trying to help last night, you dick." 

Billy laughed and the sound made Steve flinch. It was the same laugh he'd had before their fight back at the Byers house. It was full of rage and pain and kerosene. He turned on his heel, getting right up in Steve's face, their lips almost touching. Almost.  _ Almost _ .

"Help?" Billy's grin was twisted. "You're fucking useless,  _ King Steve. _ " He said it like it was a fucking joke. Like Steve himself was a fucking joke. And he didn't know why. He just knew he needed to keep Steve out of the shitshow Billy called his life. He opened his mouth, like he could somehow take it back. Because Harrington wasn't the one who was useless, and he didn't deserve that shit. But the words had already dissolved and there was nothing Billy could do about it. 

Harrington's eyes went cold, doused in an instant by Billy's words. "Jesus, you really are a fucking asshole," the boy said. 

Something pricked in Billy's chest and he did  _ not _ like it. Just like he did not like the way Harrington was looking at him.  _ Again _ . Didn't like the way it made his blood run so cold it was numbing him, but not the blissful numb he had grown accustomed to. Didn't like the way he regretted what he said. Because Billy Hargrove never regretted shit. Because Harrington was right. Billy was a fucking asshole. 

"Steve…" He didn't mean to say it and shut his mouth quickly, but the name tasted so good on his tongue, until it turned to ash at the look the boy shot him. 

"No," Harrington spit. "Fuck you Hargrove." He shoved at Billy's chest so hard it almost knocked the blonde over. He took a few steps, ones that could have summoned earthquakes, before turning back around. "Jesus Christ, man. What the fuck happened in your life to make you such a piece of shit?" 

Billy didn't answer, because what would he say? What could possibly make Steve stop looking at him like that? The truth? No, then he'd just look at Billy with pity, and that was somehow worse. 

But the look on his face was shifting. Confusion? Concern? And Billy realized he was touching his split lip and his eyes were stinging and he wanted to tell him, tell  _ Steve _ . He dropped his hand immediately, plastering a snarl on his face instead. 

"It's not my fault you turned bitch," he said, stepping toward Harrington. "Plant your feet."

"What?" But he hadn't done as Billy said, and he was falling hard to the ground, a pain blossoming in his chest where Billy had hit him. 

Billy spent the first half of first period jacking off in the bathroom with so much anger and self loathing that it was impressive he was able to finish at all. Steve was a real piece of work, but he was a fine one, and Billy didn't know whether he hated himself more for being attracted to Steve or for being an asshole to him. 

He didn't know when it started, the dreams, the thoughts, the way he sometimes started getting hard just being near the guy. Maybe it was when Steve finally had the balls to stand up to him. No, if he thought about it and was completely honest with himself, it was the first time he saw him in the showers after basketball. He'd seen Steve naked and he'd liked it. It was that fucking simple. There was nothing deeper there. And now he was forever cursed to want to fuck a guy who hated his very existence. Well, that was his own damn fault, he supposed. And he probably deserved it. 

Billy cleaned himself up and went to wash his hands. Jesus Christ, he really did look like absolute shit. It wasn't so much the split lip as the haunting expression carved into his face. He looked like he hadn't slept in almost a week and that he was probably also being haunted by at least one malicious spirit that liked to fuck with him and throw him across the room just for shits and giggles, which wasn't too far from the truth. But he didn't usually look this bad afterward. He sighed, splashing water on his face. He was a mess. A goddamn piece of shit fucking mess. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he was growling and punching the side of the bathroom stall, pain searing through his knuckles. And when all the fire in him had burned up and gone out, he was on his knees, his head against the cool wall. Jesus, he just wanted to go back  _ home _ . Life had been so much simpler in Cali.

His first class was with Harrington and it took everything Billy had to suck it up and go to class. His teacher was less than impressed with how tardy he was and made it very clear. As he moved to sit down in the back of the room, Harrington's eyes flicked from Billy's face to his knuckles, still slicked with blood from where they split open. He shook his head and scoffed, rolling his eyes so hard it must have hurt. 

\---

Billy shouldn't have gone home. Should've just grabbed Max and hauled ass back to California, back to safety and sanity. But he'd hoped that if he just kept his head down and stayed in his room, the storm would blow over, or at the very least calm down. He should have known better. 

He knew how bad his night was going to get when Neil barged into his room. His dad always knocked, like Billy willingly opening his door meant he was  _ welcoming _ whatever was coming. But this… This was scary. 

It was well past everyone's bedtime and Billy had thought he'd weathered the storm without too much damage. Thought he'd see clear skies in the morning. So he locked his door, lit a cigarette, and laid down on his bed, one hand holding open a very  _ risqué _ magazine, the other down his shorts, wrapping around his dick. He didn't even have time to get hard before his door splintered inward. 

Billy panicked. He stuffed the magazine in the crack between the wall and his bed, where it usually dwelled, save for the occasions he couldn't get Harrington out of his fucking head. See, there was a very pretty boy in this magazine who looked an awful lot like  _ his _ pretty boy, if he squinted, and Billy couldn't help but imagine this guy  _ was  _ his pretty boy, spread naked across the page just for him. Billy knew better than to keep something so fucking stupid in his room, but he couldn't get rid of it. It was the closest he would ever get to fucking Steve, and that was a dream he just wasn't willing to let die. But his dad couldn't find the magazine, couldn't discover he was right about his son. Billy probably wouldn't survive it. 

Neil stumbled into the room, glossy eyes falling heavily on Billy. He crossed the messy room in only a few steps and grabbed a fistful of Billy's curls, yanking hard enough to pull the boy off his bed. He hit the floor wrong and pain shot through his shoulder, up his neck, and settled somewhere in his head next to all the other pain he was storing away. Billy stared at the clutter lining his makeshift shelves, willing his mind to slip out of focus. This would pass. Eventually. It had to. 

Neil bent down close to Billy's ear and snarled, "You walked out before we finished our little talk last night." He tugged on Billy's hair, causing a sharp hiss to escape the boy's lips. "I thought I had taught you about respect."

"Yes, sir," Billy whimpered. "You did. I'm-" Billy inhaled sharply. He didn't want to say it. He didn't mean it. But he said it anyway. "I'm sorry."

Neil placed his hand on Billy's ribs, his face artfully composed, like Billy was a threat, like he was just trying to hold him down, like it was just a coincidence that all the pressure was right where Neil  _ knew _ Billy was starting to bruise. Billy had the audacity to grimace, which Neil took as an invitation to push harder. Tears blurred Billy's vision, hot and sharp and unwelcome. His mind snapped back into focus, the clarity so bright and sharp it left Billy dizzy. He heard Neil huff, almost a laugh, before using Billy's body to brace himself as he stumbled to his feet. 

He grabbed Billy's mane of curls again, tugging until the boy climbed to his feet, hissing and wincing. Neil looked at his son with the utmost disappointment clearly etched onto his face. Billy hated that look. No matter how many times he saw it, it hurt, broke off a tiny piece of him he would never be able to get back. Because, it seemed, no matter what Billy did, it would never be enough. No matter how good his grades were, no matter how many basketball games he won, no matter how well he took care of his goddamn shitbird of a little sister, it would never be enough. And Billy thought he would be over it by now, after all these years, thought this sentimental bullshit would have been beaten out of him, but… Here he was, eyes downcast, wondering what he could possibly do to gain his father's approval. 

A deep sigh emanated from Neil. "Give me your keys." 

Billy's head snapped up, brows knitted together. "What? Why?" 

"Harder for you to run off if you don't have a car."

"No," Billy whispered. He didn't realise he'd said it aloud until Neil scoffed, shaking his head. "How long?" he asked, quickly. 

"Two weeks. For now." 

"How am I supposed to get to school?" he said it a little louder than he should have, added a little more bite than his father liked. He wasn't even concerned about getting to and from school. He was concerned about not having a quick escape. Two weeks. 

"Walk. Maybe it'll do you some good."

The muscles in Billy's jaw worked overtime, fighting his urge to yell, to throw something, hit something,  _ someone.  _ To cry. After a minute he grabbed his car keys from the nightstand and shoved them into his father's open hand. Billy felt something inside him recoil at the loss of his car. He hadn't planned on running away to California in the next two weeks, but now it wasn't even an option, and something about that made his entire being ache. 

\---

Max hadn't been happy about Billy losing his car and therefore having to skate to and from school, but she also didn't seem entirely upset at the idea of not having to sit in the car with him twice a day for a couple weeks. He didn't blame her. But every day, while Max skated on ahead of him, growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the distance, Billy fumed. He was fucking pissed and there wasn't a single person in school who didn't notice. 

It wasn't until the first Friday without his car that Billy was finally approached by Harrington. They hadn't really spoken at all since the fight in the parking lot and it seemed Harrington wasn't keen on going anywhere near Billy when he was obviously close to snapping at someone. So when Billy was headed to a party at Tammy's he was surprised to see a familiar Beamer pull up next to him, exhaust thick in the frigid night air, headlights illuminating the winding road ahead of them. 

"Get in." 

Billy looked over at the open window of the car to catch Harrington staring at him, lit cigarette dangling from his fingers, smoke curling out between those perfect lips. Billy laughed and shook his head. It wasn't that he didn't want to get in the car with him. It was that he didn't know if he could control himself if he did. And the problem was that Billy wasn't sure if he was going to try to hit Harrington or fuck him. Neither option seemed like they would end well. 

"Yeah, I'd really rather not, man."

"Well, it's really fucking cold out and apparently you're too stu-  _ stubborn _ to wear a real fucking jacket,  _ man. _ " Billy didn't miss the quick change from  _ stupid _ to  _ stubborn _ . So Harrington had learned. 

"I like the cold." 

Harrington laughed. "Bullshit, Sunshine. Get your ass in here."

Billy finally crawled in, slamming the door shut with an unnecessary amount of force that earned him an annoyed look from the other boy. The Beamer was nothing like his Camaro. It was stuffy and sad and smelled like money and Harrington's lit cig. Billy sighed. 

"Where's your car, anyway? Thought you'd die before giving that thing up."

"The piece of shit blew up on me. It's in the shop. Should have it back in about a week."

Harrington eyed him for a minute before finally nodding. "That why you've been so pissed?" 

Billy chuckled, lighting up one of his own smokes. "The fuck's with the third degree? You  _ worried _ 'bout me, pretty boy?" 

He could feel Harrington roll his eyes. "Just wanted to know why you're more of an ass than usual. You know, so I can avoid it in the future. 'Cause you're not exactly fun to be around." 

"Well shit, Harrington," Billy said, sarcasm as thick as the smoke now pouring from his lips. "How do you really feel about me?" Billy hoped he got that it was a rhetorical question. He sure as Hell didn't need to hear the real answer. Didn't want to hear how much everyone hated him. How much  _ he _ hated him. 

Billy's heart kicked into overdrive at the thought and his lungs followed suit. Shit. Not now. If he didn't shut this down immediately, he was going to start crying. 

Harrington was quiet for a long time. There was no way he didn't hear Billy's rattled breaths, his sniffling. No way he didn't catch the quick swipe of Billy's hand beneath his eye, catching a stray tear that had the gall to slip down his cheek. Harrington glanced over before he put a timid hand on Billy's arm. "If you need to talk…"

Billy yanked his arm away so quickly that Harrington's hand fell into his lap. The older boy moved it quickly, but the damage had already been done. His  _ hand _ had touched Billy's  _ dick _ and neither of them had missed it. They sat there, frozen. No. Not this, too. 

"Let me out," Billy said, his voice strangled. 

"Jesus, man, it was an accident! I wasn't like… Trying to grope you!" 

No, Harrington didn't understand. He was sitting so close to Billy, his pretty face lit by passing streetlights, looking so soft and sweet. His hands gripped the steering wheel in a way Billy wished they would grip  _ him.  _ And he… He had cared. Enough to offer to talk. After Billy had repeatedly pushed him away. After Billy had beat the shit out of him. After  _ everything _ , he was willing to set their differences aside and listen. He didn't understand how much that one second of contact, those few words, had affected Billy. 

"Pull the fuck over, Harrington!" Billy wanted to cover himself, but there was no way the other boy would miss the action. He would  _ know.  _ So he sat there, eyes closed, trying to think of anything that would stop the blood from rushing to his dick. Because it didn't care that Billy was in the middle of a crisis. But Harrington was talking again, and Billy loved that voice. That mouth. He felt the car pull to a stop, but the locks didn't disengage. 

"-that much of a fucking ass? I swear to God, if you start telling people I came onto you… Why do I even bother if you're not gonna listen? Billy-" 

"I'm not gonna do that to you," Billy said, so quietly he wasn't sure Harrington had heard him. 

"Why do I have a hard time believing that?" 

The blonde let out a long, deep sigh and finished his cigarette. "I know how damaging that shit can be. I don't like you, but I'm not gonna do that to you." That wasn't entirely true. He  _ did _ like Harrington. 

"Wait… Did people say that about you? Back in California? That you're…" He gestured awkwardly. 

"Gay?" Billy sighed again, flicking his cigarette butt out the window and putting his arm across his lap. "Yeah. A kid I went to school with was seen getting railed by some dude in the back of his car. Nobody saw much of the other guy, so no one knows who it was. But the kid fucking said it was me. Dunno if he hated me so much he thought I deserved that shit, or if he was hoping that nobody would give him shit if it turned out  _ I _ was the guy fucking him. You know, 'cause no one had the balls to fuck with me." Billy laughed, but it sounded sick, hollow. He wasn't about to tell Harrington that it  _ had _ been him, that the kid had not been lying, that Billy had been too chicken shit to admit it was true. 

"So… what happened?" 

Billy looked over at him and sneered. "Word got to my dad, who couldn't stand the idea of people thinking he raised a  _ faggot _ for a son." The word was acid in his mouth. He could feel the bite of every time Neil had ever spat it at him. His dad didn't even know for sure Billy was gay, but he used the slur any time Billy did something he deemed not to be masculine enough. It didn't matter how many girls Billy paraded through their house. It didn't matter how many fights he got into. It didn't matter that he drove a fast car and listened to loud music. He would always be a fucking  _ fag _ to his father. 

"So… He picked up everything and ran. To this shit hole."

"Just because of that?" 

Billy ran a hand through his curls. "No, not really. But it  _ was _ the last straw. It was too much for him. He could tolerate everyone knowing about the drinking and the drugs and the fistfights, but God forbid anyone think I put my dick in some dude's ass." 

Harrington didn't say anything, just stared out the windshield. Billy watched the headlights of passing cars play off his face. His eyes glittered and Billy found himself wishing they were directed at him. He just wanted someone to look at him, to  _ see _ him. 

"You're not gonna ask if it's true?" he said. He didn't know why he asked it. Maybe he wanted to know at last,  _ for sure _ , if he even had a chance with Harrington, or if the boy was repulsed by the idea of Billy being gay. Maybe he just wanted to see those big brown eyes looking at him, even if they didn't really see him. 

Harrington looked over and shook his head. "I already know it's not true, so…" He shrugged, looking away. There was something odd in his expression, something Billy hadn't expected to see. Something a lot like disappointment. But then it was gone, and the boy was talking again. "Well, we're here, so…" 


	2. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's terrified he's ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took 18 years! I hit a wall pretty hard for a minute there.

The party should have taken Billy's mind off things, should have numbed him from the creeping darkness in his own head, yet his mind was aflutter with thoughts that were far too dangerous even when he was sober. Thoughts of a brown haired boy who had shown more genuine kindness to him in one car ride than anyone had in a very long time. Thoughts of letting himself be real, for once, with this boy. Thoughts of not being rejected. Of being loved. Of loving. Living. 

His gaze was constantly shifting, catching faces as they passed, looking for that telltale hair. Billy had seen him a few times, slipping between classmates with a cup in his hand and a smile on his face, Nancy and Jonathan inexplicably following close behind him. Of course he wouldn't be alone. Billy had had his chance to be honest with Harrington, with  _ Steve,  _ and he'd let it pass him by. 

Billy wanted to drink until he couldn't feel, couldn't think, but every time he grabbed a drink it seemed to find itself forgotten within minutes, still mostly full. He never even felt a buzz before the party started shutting down and people were either passing out or shuffling home. 

A door was left open somewhere and a cool breeze tumbled down the hallway, tickling the back of Billy's neck. He perched on the half wall separating the dining and living rooms, lighting a cigarette. He was the only one still awake. Sleep was a cruel mistress and Billy found she never much liked coming around when he needed her most. The walk home would be dreadful at four o'clock in the morning on a cold February day. As lonely as he was in a house full of blackout drunks, he wasn't particularly excited about the prospect of freezing his balls off just to go home to something even worse. 

Soft footsteps behind him caused Billy to turn around, discarding his thoughts in a heap around him. Harrington - no,  _ Steve _ \- was making his way down the hall, toward the source of the cold air. He seemed entirely uninterested in Billy's presence, which really shouldn't have bothered Billy as much as it did. 

He hadn't  _ planned _ on following Steve, but his feet hit the floor and padded after the boy without his consent. He followed silently as Steve ducked out of the back door, stumbled across the patio, and stopped before the line of trees. He just stood there, wavering slightly in the frigid air. 

"Steve," Billy said softly, coming up behind him. "What are you doing out here, man? It's freezing." Steve didn't acknowledge him. "Hey, Harrington!" Billy shoved Steve's shoulder, throwing the boy off balance just enough to trip over his own feet. "Shit, man, I'm sorry."

Billy reached down to help him up, but Steve was suddenly growing very agitated. He slapped at Billy's hand and stumbled to his feet. His eyes were open, but they seemed focused somewhere off in the distance. Billy reached for him again, concern welling up in his gut. 

"Go!" Steve hissed. "I'll hold them off." He planted his feet and raised his arms like he was holding a bat. 

"Steve, it's me. Billy. You're… I don't know, I think you're asleep, man."

Steve's arms sagged. "Billy? No, you're not supposed to be here! They'll kill you! Like… Like Bob…"

Billy inched forward, hand outstretched. "Steve, it's just a nightmare. You have to wake up." He grabbed Steve's wrist and the boy stumbled into his chest. 

"No!" he cried. "Let me go! I have to save them! I have to…" Steve dissolved into tears, collapsing to his knees and grabbing fistfuls of Billy's jean jacket. Taking him by the shoulders, Billy shook him until at last his strangled sobs turned into startled gasps. 

"Hey, hey, you're okay. I've got you." 

"What? Where am I? Who…" Steve sputtered. He looked up and his eyes went wide. "Billy?" 

"Yeah, man. You were, uh, sleep walking or something. Kinda freaky. You okay?" 

Steve was still clutching desperately at Billy and he must have realized it because he let go like the denim had burned him. He stumbled backward and stood up straight. Silence fell around them and they stood, staring at each other, unsure what should come next. 

"Let me take you home," Billy offered, holding out his hand vaguely. 

"You don't have your car." 

Billy's hand dropped back to his side. "I can take you in yours. I just… Don't think you should be here tonight, not like this."

Steve laughed weakly. "What are you gonna do? Watch over me all night?" 

The shrug Billy gave him was little more than a twitch of the shoulders, but Steve understood it all the same. Billy would be willing to look after him any time. Steve just had to agree to it. But, of course, that would never happen, especially with Steve thinking Billy wasn't at all interested in guys. He should have set him straight. 

"Are you serious?" Steve asked incredulously. 

Billy's heart lurched. He didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do. He'd made a mistake. He should have never followed Steve out here. The boy's eyebrows shot up and he almost laughed. 

"What? You seem like a danger to yourself. And yeah, maybe we're not exactly friends, but I'm not a complete piece of shit, Harrington. Don't want your dumb ass hurting yourself."

"Very tempting when you put it that way."

Billy threw his hands up and began walking back to the house. "Whatever, man. Just trying to help."

This time Steve actually did laugh. "Really? Huh. Are you saying that, I don't know, maybe I  _ shouldn't _ be an asshole when you're trying to be helpful?" 

Billy stopped, letting out a long sigh. His breath hung heavy in the air. "I'm sorry," he said, softly. "I  _ was  _ an asshole. You're right. I still have no idea what you thought was out there, but… Thanks, I guess, for looking out for me anyway." Billy began walking again, but Steve's voice stopped him once more. 

"You know, I didn't say 'no.'" 

Steve's smoke danced around Billy's head in a delicate haze. He'd said he wasn't supposed to smoke in the house. He'd said it as he lit Billy's cigarette for him, then his own. Billy watched the light glint off the Zippo as Steve clicked it closed, watched Steve's eyes squint as he inhaled deeply, watched the way his lips parted as the smoke drifted lazily between them. 

They sat sprawled out on the floor, legs propped on the couch. The heat coursing through them from the half empty bottle of whiskey on the floor between them was getting to Billy and he kept toying with snaps on his shirt, popping one open every thirty minutes or so. He'd tried to talk Steve into going back to sleep once they got to his house, but he didn't fight too hard when Steve refused to sleep and invited Billy inside instead. 

Billy held out a hand lazily over Steve, who chuckled and handed over the bowl of popcorn. The weight of the bowl pressed Billy's hand down onto Steve's warm chest. He let it linger a moment before resting the bowl on his own chest and dropping a handful of popcorn into his mouth. 

"Alright," Steve slurred, glancing over at Billy with half-closed, glossy eyes and a lopsided smile. "Alright.  _ But…"  _ He paused and took a painfully long drag on his cigarette. 

Billy took the opportunity to throw a few kernels of popcorn directly at Steve's pretty little face. The boy caught a couple in his mouth and it took everything Billy had not to kiss him right then. "C'mon, man."

"Fine. Okay. So…" He plucked a few fallen bits of popcorn from Billy's chest and popped them in his mouth. The pulse quickened under Billy's hour skin. Then Steve's face split into a grin and he burst out laughing. "I don't remember what we were talking about!" 

"Jesus, Steve, you're a disaster."

Steve just looked at Billy and smiled slowly. His eyes were half closed in a happy, sleepy way that made Billy want to snuggle up next to him and fall asleep right there on the floor. A flash of Steve's tongue dipped out of his mouth, wetting his lips before disappearing again. Blood began rushing to Billy's dick. Any second. Any second now, Steve was going to kiss him. 

"Hold that thought." Steve pulled himself to his feet with such an agonizing slowness that Billy almost helped him out.  _ Almost _ . 

Steve stretched, the hem of his shirt pulling up to show a small trail of hair beneath his navel disappearing beneath his waistband. Billy swallowed hard. The air seemed to be growing heavier, pushing down on his lungs with a fierceness he didn't know how to handle. He stubbed out his cigarette and sat up, watching Steve disappear around the corner. 

He should have stayed there, should have gone back to his popcorn. He knew that. But he also knew the ache in his gut wouldn't go away, not until he knew. The soft patter of Steve's feet drifted to him from the kitchen. Billy followed the sound like his life depended on it. And maybe it did. 

There he was, in his stupid khakis, digging around in the freezer. Billy watched him until he pulled out a tub of ice cream and set it on the counter. A smile danced across his lips when he caught sight of the blonde in the doorway. His tongue darted out again, licking his bottom lip before it was caught between his teeth. There it was. The coy invitation. Then Billy was on him, pushing him against the counter, their lips crashing together breathlessly, Billy's half-hard dick grinding against Steve's thigh. And Steve… 

Steve didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared. Horrified? Disgusted? 

What little breath was still in Billy's lungs had fled now and his heart was trying to follow suit, clawing its way up his throat, desperately trying to out race the flood of numbing darkness filling his body. He had fucked up. He'd misread the whole night. Steve lighting his cigarette, eating popcorn off his chest, smiling at him like  _ that.  _ He'd fucked up. And now they would have to move again. And he'd never see that pretty little face and those stupid Bambi eyes and… 

Billy stumbled backward, heart pounding so intensely he could barely think. "What the fuck, Harrington?" he spat. 

"W-what?" Steve sputtered. He looked utterly bewildered. 

"I thought we talked about this. I'm  _ not _ fucking  _ gay _ ." Billy turned quickly on his heel, feeling tears burning at his eyes. He didn't know what he was doing, but it felt better than actually accepting what had just happened. 

"Billy, I didn't… Where are you going?" Steve chased after him and grabbed Billy's arm as the boy went to put on his jacket. "Billy…"

He pulled his arm away. "Get off me, Harrington. I'm going home."

He left Steve there, mouth hanging open, and trudged into the wintery night. 

Of course. The door was locked when he got home, like his dad knew he'd come crawling back at the crack of dawn. Billy sighed and walked around to his bedroom window which, unexpectedly, was also locked. Jesus, he was going to freeze to death. 

After arguing with himself for a good five minutes, Billy finally tapped lightly on Max's window. It took several tries and Billy nearly drowning in the petrifying fear that his father would hear before Max finally came to the window. She opened it a crack and dipped down to talk to him. 

"What are you doing?" she hissed. 

Billy didn't look up at her, just breathed onto his fingers, trying to bring life back into them. "Freezing my fucking ass off. Let me in."

Max huffed and crossed her arms. "Not with that attitude."

Billy finally looked up at her, seeing the exact moment she realized he'd been crying. "Please, Max." His voice was small and bruised and stripped of everything that made it  _ him.  _

Silence settled between them as she slid her window up the rest of the way. Billy climbed in awkwardly, his legs and feet too cold to work properly, and half stumbled, half collapsed willingly onto the floor. Max moved to help him up, but he simply shook his head and drew his knees to his chest. 

Neither of them knew how long they sat there, Billy trying not to cry again, Max not knowing if she should hug him or give him his space, and instead just hovering oddly, almost like she was ready to pounce on him, or maybe run away. At last, Max reached out and touched Billy's arm. It seemed to both startle and comfort him. 

"I did it again," he whispered. 

Max's breath hitched for a moment. "Did what, Billy?" 

"Fucked up… God, Max, I'm so sorry." His voice was crumbling. "He's gonna tell. He's gonna tell everyone and we're gonna have to move again, and… I- I-" 

"What did you  _ do _ , Billy?" 

Those ocean eyes were wide and glossy and red when he looked at her. "Steve… I kissed Steve."

Max looked as though she had been unmoored. The expression on her face was so odd that Billy caught himself holding his breath, waiting for her to say something. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but she emitted no sound. 

"Please, Max… I thought-" 

"It's okay, Billy," she cut in. "It's okay. Steve won't tell anyone."

"Why wouldn't he? I've been nothing but a fucking asshole to him and… And…" 

"And nothing!" Max hissed. "He won't tell, Billy. I promise." 

He wanted to believe her, so badly. But his skin was still stinging from his walk home and all he could think was  _ I fucked up. I fucked up. Max is gonna hate me. Max already hates me…  _ And even though she was staring at him, concern clear across her face, Billy knew that somewhere under there she was pulling even farther away from him, and soon he would never be able to get her back. She was all he had left and he was about to lose her too. 

Time seemed to jolt forward and Billy found himself grabbing Max's arms desperately. She flinched backward, face twisting into fear, into something Billy never wanted to see on her sweet face. He loosened his grip but didn't let go. 

"I'm sorry, Maxi." It was a name he hadn't used for years, not since back when their parents first got together and they were both just kids desperately trying to cling to lives that were being ripped away from them. She relaxed. "Please…" His voice was cracking and his instincts told him to shove it down, harden himself, tell her off. Because God forbid his sister see him as a fucking human being. "Please don't hate me for this. I didn't mean to. He's just so- I thought he…" He didn't even know. 

He hadn't thought about it, had just  _ felt _ it. Steve's gaze had felt different. It was no longer that sudden blinding pain of the first icy snap of winter, when the cars all freeze over and the air starts to crystallize in his lungs. It was a warm summer's night, the cold ocean nipping at his toes, filling his head with the soft rush of waves, the bite of salt in the air. Steve had felt like  _ home _ as they laid there, sharing whiskey and popcorn and stories of their favourite memories. Steve had felt like  _ home _ when Billy kissed him, warm and soft and  _ wanting _ . But that was an old home, one that had been torn from his small, aching hands when he was still too young to know how to protect anything. And now… Billy supposed Steve had still felt like home when he'd pulled away. Because for a long time, that's what Billy's home has felt like. Like he'd been thrown naked into the roiling sea, something grabbing at his ankle, threatening to pull him under if he stopped for just one moment, stopped moving, stopped fighting. 

Billy knew that if Max abandoned him too, all the fight would leave his tired, aching body, and he would just sink into the abyss. But as inviting as it sounded to just give in, Billy knew there was something much worse than himself out there, and if he didn't fight his way back to shore, it would get her. It would get her. He would get her. He. He. He… 

_ He _ was standing in the doorway, the light from the lamp on Max's nightstand throwing shadows across him in the same way the shadows curled around him in Billy's dreams. Everything seemed to fall away in pieces. First, the walls. Next, the dresser and nightstand. The bed. The light.  _ Max.  _ Until nothing was left but Billy and the thing that called itself his father. 

That was the night Max finally came to understand Billy. The night she saw who Neil  _ really _ was. The night she must have started to wonder who her mother was, how she was able to just stand by and watch it happen. The night Max cried herself to sleep in Billy's arms, asking  _ him  _ to forgive  _ her _ for not seeing it sooner, for not somehow protecting him. 

The Camaro was taken for another week because Billy came home late. Because he'd woken up his sister. Because he'd woken up his father, and that was something Neil couldn't excuse. The bruises were given to him because he smelled like liquor. Because he was acting  _ suspicious _ . Because he still had tears on his face and in his eyes, and that was something Neil couldn't excuse. 

Max's gaze felt different now, too. All the sharp angles had been broken off that night and though it was still jagged it didn't hurt, because the shards were no longer angled toward him, but instead away, like she was trying to protect him from the world. Billy didn't like it. He wished he could have protected her from it. Because he saw how now she second guessed everything she did, wondered if it would get Billy in trouble. He didn't want that guilt hanging around her neck. 

The weight hanging around Billy's own neck seemed to be growing heavier, too. Before, he always thought that maybe Max was safe, because Neil was always careful she never found out how he treated his son. But now… Now that she knew, Billy was afraid his father was that much closer to turning his anger toward her instead. 

The walk to school was frigid and the silence palpable. Billy could feel the weight of Max's gaze, could feel the rough edges prickling along his skin. She didn't speak and he was grateful to her for that. Because he could still hear her sobs, feel her shaking in his arms, and he didn't think he could bear any more of it. 

They still didn't speak as they stepped into the parking lot, Max dropping her board and skating away. As soon as Billy crossed to the high school, Steve fell in step with him. 

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly. 

Billy shrugged, lighting up a cigarette. "Nothing to talk about, Harrington."

Steve grabbed his arm and hissed, "That wasn't  _ nothing _ ."

Smoke curled out between Billy's lips as he let out a deep sigh. "The fuck do you want from me, Harrington?" 

Steve shook his head and put his hands on his hips, shrugging. "I don't know. An explanation? The truth?"

Billy laughed. "It's okay, Steve. I'm attractive. You were drunk. It happened." He walked away before Steve could even form a sentence. 

His skin felt too tight. Too hot. He didn't know why he kept trying to convince Steve he had tried to kiss Billy. It clearly wasn't going to work and only made it that much more obvious that Billy  _ had _ meant to kiss Steve, that it wasn't a drunken accident. And that he was doing a piss poor job of trying to cover it up. 

The next two weeks were filled with Billy trying to dodge Steve between classes, notes left in Billy's locker asking to talk that he kept pretending he never got, and extremely awkward encounters in the shower after practice. The first day, Billy tried to rush his shower and leave before Steve even got undressed. Just as he was crossing from the showers into the main locker room, he damn near ran into a very naked Steve. Billy couldn't even look at him. Every day Billy got a little faster. He could take a real shower when he got home. But every day Steve tried to ambush him to talk. 

"What's Harrington's deal, man?" Tommy finally asked on the last day of Billy's  _ probation _ . 

"I pissed him off at that party last month. Still hasn't gotten over it, apparently."

They walked out to the parking lot. The air was finally losing its bite. "The fuck'd you do?" 

Billy shrugged, sitting down on the curb to light a smoke. "Who the fuck knows with that guy."

Tommy laughed and nodded in agreement. "Hey. You, uh, need a ride?" 

Billy shook his head, taking a ridiculously long drag. "Nah. Gonna finish this and walk home. Could use the fresh air." What he didn't say was that if his dad caught him hitching a ride home, he'd probably keep the Camaro even longer. And how was Billy supposed to explain to Tommy that yeah, he could use a ride, but he'd have to drop him off a few blocks away? No, it was easier just to walk. He needed to clear his head anyway. Tommy shrugged and headed to his car. 

Billy wanted to run straight home, hop in his Camaro, and drive. Anywhere. Nowhere. Just go. But he wasn't looking forward to the conversation with his father that was sure to accompany the relinquishing of his car keys. He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out on the sidewalk, and took off before Steve could ambush him again. He took his time once he got out of sight of the school. 

Fifteen minutes later, he found himself wandering aimlessly down the back roads of Hawkins, head laden with hopes and dreams, monsters and nightmares, regrets, self loathing. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn't hear the rustling in the trees beside him.

Billy glanced over, only half interested, expecting to see a squirrel, or maybe even a deer. There was nothing there. Not unusual. He turned his gaze back toward the road and kept walking. A minute later there was a much louder rustling of leaves and underbrush, followed by a very peculiar noise. Billy slowed to a stop. 

The noise had been so bizarre, an unnatural trilling, that Billy wasn't sure he wanted to look. A shiver ran through his body, causing the hair along his arms and across the back of his neck to stand on end. He turned his head slowly, as if trying not to startle the thing hiding in the woods next to him. Was he finally about to see what had freaked Steve out so badly that night? 

But again, there was nothing there. It was silent. It was the kind of silence that pushed at Billy's eardrums, heavy and full to bursting with meaning that he just couldn't quite grasp. He chuckled and shook his head. He was being stupid. 

Not even a minute later, he heard it  _ again _ , and this time it freaked him the fuck out. He could have sworn it was right there. Right  _ there _ . But nothing. The woods were empty. There weren't even birds chirping. It made his skin crawl.  _ He ran _ . 

Something was out there. Something was fucking chasing him. Against his better judgement, he turned to look back. In the distance, a car was pulling closer, but nothing else was there. No strange creature. Nothing chasing him. He would have been relieved, if he hadn't tripped over his own feet and gone down  _ hard _ , tumbling down the hill. 

The road ate at the skin on his hands and arms, likely bruised both knees and an elbow, and scuffed up his jacket. Fuck. The pain didn't even have time to set in before he heard the purr of an engine drawing nearer. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling back to the ground before he was able to right himself, and took off for the edge of the road. 

The car missed him by a couple feet, careening over the hill as if there wasn't maybe somebody laying in the middle of the road on the other side. The Beamer squealed to a stop and Billy found himself falling to his ass again where he stayed. He wasn't even surprised when it was Steve who climbed out of the car, already yelling. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I could have killed you!" 

Billy didn't say anything, just sat there dumbly in the almost warm air, Steve's voice dancing around his head like stars. His heart felt like it was failing him, like it would just give out at any moment. He looked down at his hands, torn and bloody, trying to focus on something,  _ anything _ , to calm himself. 

Suddenly Steve was kneeling before him, taking both of Billy's hands into his own and examining them. "What happened? Are you okay? Billy?"

His eyes flicked up to meet Steve's, soft and warm and brimming over with concern. Billy nodded, or maybe he shook his head. He couldn't really tell. Everything felt fuzzy and weird. 

"Can you stand?" Billy nodded and Steve pulled him to his feet. "Can you tell me what happened?" Billy shook his head. "Okay… Well at least let me get you cleaned up. C'mon." He guided Billy to his car and helped him climb in. 

It wasn't until they were in Steve's bathroom, all the rocks and dirt cleaned from Billy's scrapes, that the fog in his head finally started to clear. Steve was sitting on the floor next to the door, fiddling with a hand towel, and Billy watched him closely. 

"What did you see that night? Out by the woods?" 

Steve looked up, startled. "Why… What-" He worked his mouth but nothing else came out. 

Billy rubbed at his eyes. "Did it… God, this is gonna sound stupid. Did it make a weird noise?" 

Steve could have said anything in the world and it wouldn't have mattered. Billy had his answer. The look of sheer horror plastered across that sweet face was not only startling, it was telling. So the thing following Billy  _ had _ been the thing from that night. 

"What is it?" he asked. Steve didn't answer. "C'mon, man. It was  _ following me _ . If you know something, I think I deserve an answer." 

Steve sighed, heavy and exhausted and full of  _ something _ Billy couldn't quite put his finger on. "It's a very,  _ very _ long story." 

Billy threw open his arms "Don't have anywhere better to be." He almost said 'pretty boy.' Almost. 

"Fine," Steve breathed. "But then we're talking about that fucking kiss."


	3. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's never been given many chances in his life, not ones that matter. So maybe it wasn't smart to have everything riding on this ONE chance, but nobody ever accused Billy of making smart decisions. Oh if only they really knew him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm so slow at updating. Everyone coming back to read when I post just warms my heart. 
> 
> Wee bit of oral ahead. I've also decided there will be some more serious smut in future chapters. If that's not your thing, I do apologize.

The silence was dusty, a haze draped across them like a veil. It shifted, almost imperceptibly, with every skip of their gazes, twitch of their fingers, but it didn't falter. Billy glanced hesitantly at the boy still twisting a towel in his hands, whose own gaze was focused on a very particular tile on the floor, just a few inches from Billy's foot. 

"Can we talk about the kiss first?" Billy's voice was nearly a whisper. Steve looked up, surprised. "It's just…" Billy muttered, "I can't focus on the freaky creature thing when I'm worried about what you're going to say to me."

Steve furrowed his brow. "You're more worried about the kiss than a monster from another dimension?"

Billy sighed. "You forget the story I told you? Why we had to leave California?" 

Steve's mouth hung open. "But- Did y-" He struggled to find the words. "So that was true?" 

Billy nodded  _ very _ slowly. He didn't want to miss Steve's reaction, whatever it may be. Steve nodded, too, like it all finally made sense. 

"Yeah… I guess I should have figured that out when you kissed me…"

Billy laughed, but this time it was full and blossoming and what little pain was left in it felt like it was healing. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"Why?" 

That was a Hell of a question. Why? Because their relationship was finally starting to mend and he just lit the whole thing on fire again. Because he had handled the thing like a complete asshole. Because he just made things so much more complicated than they ever should have been.

"Because," Billy sighed, "I lied to you. And threw myself at you. And lied again." He wrung his hands together nervously. "Max promised me you wouldn't tell anyone. Please don't make her a liar."

"Why the Hell would I tell anyone I kissed Billy Hargrove?" Steve said, a sly smirk inching its way across his face. 

"But I was the one-" 

In a blink, Steve's spot on the tile floor was empty, the hand towel discarded in the doorway. Steve's hand, soft and warm and entirely unexpected, was suddenly on Billy's cheek, where his skin was rapidly turning warm and pink. Steve's mouth, wet and hungry and  _ demanding _ , was suddenly on Billy's. Steve, all long limbs and soft hair and everything Billy had dreamt of since moving to Hawkins, was suddenly on  _ Billy.  _

The suddenness of it, the exhilaration, caused Billy to flinch backward. One moment he was sitting on the edge of the tub, Steve kneeling between his legs, his heart hammering and his dreams singing… And the next there was a series of loud thuds and pain. First, Billy's ass hitting the floor of the tub. Next, his head hitting the wall. Then, every single bottle sitting neatly on the little inset in the shower wall was falling down around him,  _ on _ him. 

"Fuck," Billy groaned, suddenly feeling like his body had been rearranged in entirely the wrong shape. People were not meant to lay sideways in bathtubs. His chin was digging into his chest, his arm was somewhere behind his back, and his pride… Well, his pride was nowhere to be found. He rolled and twisted, unscrunching himself and stretching out. He glanced up but couldn't see Steve over the ledge of the tub. There was, however, a godawful wheezing sound coming from that general direction. 

Steve was  _ laughing _ . He was laughing so hard he couldn't even breathe. Billy wanted to curl up right there in that bathtub and fucking die. Instead, he got up on trembling legs, tripped trying to climb out of the tub, almost stepped on Steve, who was literally rolling around on the floor and laughing, and  _ bolted _ . 

"Hey," Steve called, the laughter dying around the edges of his voice. "Billy, c'mon."

Steve caught Billy as he was wrestling with his stupid jacket. Billy was trembling so badly he couldn't get the damn zipper to work. Jesus, he was so embarrassed. The whole situation was already bad enough… 

"Billy," Steve said softly, reaching for the blonde. "Where are you going?" 

"Home."

Steve sighed. "You can't just keep running away."

Billy's head snapped up. As far as he was concerned, running away was the only thing that could keep him alive. Running away from Steve. Running away from Hawkins. Running away from his dad. He sighed and threw out his arms, like he was asking Steve what he wanted from him. 

Steve stepped forward, hands going up to catch Billy's face. Their lips crashed together again, hot and hungry. There was a thud as Billy's back was shoved into the wall. The soft moan that had started falling from his lips quickly turned into a grunt. The force of Billy's body being shoved into the wall had knocked a picture loose and it'd come crashing down on his head. 

"Jesus," he hissed, rubbing the tender spot on his head where the corner of the picture frame had hit him. "Just… I'll see you at school, okay?" He pushed past Steve and charged out into the night. 

"Billy!" Steve called after him. "Seriously, please. You're  _ not _ walking home." He jogged out after the blonde. "For fuck's sake, stop!" He grabbed Billy's arm, feeling the muscle ripple as the boy pulled away. 

"Steve, please. Just leave me alone."

"No," Steve said, propping his hands on his hips. "You're gonna run away just 'cause you're a little embarrassed? No. Not buying it." Billy stopped, sighed, but didn't turn around. Steve filled the silence. "Kiss me."

"What?" Billy looked at Steve over his shoulder. 

"Right now. Kiss me."

A clicking noise drifted from Billy's pocket, where he was nervously flicking his lighter open and closed. He licked his lips and looked down the driveway before him. He could leave. He could throw away his one real chance with the boy of his dreams and save himself a Hell of a lot of humiliation and heartbreak. Billy started down the driveway, but only made it a few steps. He fiddled with his lighter again. 

There was the scuff of boots on pavement, a flustered huff, then Billy was on Steve. It wasn't like their first kiss. Steve leaned into it, opened his mouth to let Billy explore it with his tongue. It wasn't like their second or third. Nobody was taken by surprise. Nothing rained down on Billy to stop him. It was just the starry night sky draped around them, a cool breeze blowing up the driveway to rustle their hair, hot skin and wet mouths and  _ relief _ . 

Billy had never kissed anyone the way he kissed Steve. There had never been words woven between his lips, unraveling into  _ please stay _ and  _ I need you _ and  _ don't let me go.  _ It terrified him that he should let so much of himself depend on this Bambi-eyed boy, that his very wellbeing could depend on this boy. He barely knew the guy outside of what his knuckles felt like against Billy's jaw or how soft his lips could get. Billy barely knew him and he was already hanging  _ everything _ on this. 

Something tugged at Billy's belt and he looked down to find Steve's hands hastily unbuckling it. "Woah! What are you doing?" 

"I'm… gonna…" Steve stammered and even in the darkness Billy could see the tinge of pink creeping across his cheeks. "I'm gonna suck your cock, okay?" 

Billy grabbed Steve's hands and pulled them away. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to just let Steve do it, even if he turned out to be godawful at giving head. He sighed and brushed his fingers along Steve's jaw before leaning in to kiss him again. 

"Steve we've barely kissed, and only half of those times were even successful. Look, I want it. I really do. But you're not ready."

Steve scoffed. "Not ready?" 

"No. You've never been with a guy, have you?" Steve shook his head. "So it's _ all _ new for you. It's scary. I get it. You-" 

"I'm not scared, Billy," Steve cut in. 

"No?" Billy laughed and threw his arms out. "I am. And this sure as shit ain't my first rodeo. So I imagine in this homophobic little hick town with your well respected parents expecting you to be perfect, and your kingly image to uphold, you're pretty scared. And  _ that's okay.  _ Being afraid keeps us wary, keeps us safe." Billy curled his fingers around Steve's. "I don't know how serious you are about exploring whatever the fuck this is between us, but we have to be  _ smart.  _ We have to be  _ careful,  _ Steve. And giving me a blowjob in the middle of your driveway after a couple kisses is not being smart  _ or _ careful." 

  
  


The drive to Billy's house helped wind them both back down. 

"You do know you sound batshit fuckin' crazy, right?" 

Steve laughed. "Trust me, I know. But… If you tell anyone, we're all fucked. Got it?" 

Billy nodded. Who would believe him anyway? Creatures from some sort of decayed mirror dimension? A girl with telekinetic powers?  _ Possession?  _ A lab in the middle of bum fuck nowhere having something to do with it all? Okay, so maybe there were plenty of people who would believe that one.

"Yeah, Steve. I got it." Billy looked out the window, watching the trees whip by in a blur. They would be pulling onto Cherry Lane soon. And Billy would have the Camaro back. He sighed. "Max already knows about all this shit, doesn't she?" 

"Uh…" Steve looked over, small worry lines creasing his face. "Yeah. Yeah, she does. Don't be mad at her for not telling you, okay?" 

Billy shook his head before leaning it against the window. "Nah, I get it. Probably woulda thought she was full of shit anyway." It all still seemed insane, and Billy hadn't really seen anything to prove to him that it was real, but Steve sounded so earnest, open, that Billy couldn't help but believe every single word that passed between his pretty lips. 

If Steve hadn't  _ said _ he wanted things to happen with Billy, he would have thought the guy was pulling him along for fun. Someone like Steve, someone kind and thoughtful and understanding, didn't get together with someone like Billy. Maybe a one time thing, sure. And honestly, maybe that's all this was going to pan out to be, but it didn't feel like that. Billy had had flings and one night stands. He'd had relationships, too, but never longer than a couple weeks. He knew the way all of that felt. He knew the way those relationships just slicked right off his skin like they had never even been there. But Steve… Steve stuck to him. Billy had knocked right into him at Tina's Halloween bash and Steve had  _ stuck _ to him. And no matter how hard Billy tried to scrub him away, Steve was always right there, sinking deeper and deeper under his skin. It unnerved him. 

There was silence for a long time. It wasn't heavy or asphyxiating. It didn't carry meanings that Billy couldn't decipher. It was just peaceful quiet. Then Steve's hand tentatively found its way onto Billy's leg, where it gave him a little squeeze. 

"You okay?" Steve asked. "You seem… Off."

Billy shrugged, as if he didn't know what was bothering him. But the words were clawing their way up his throat and there was nothing he could do to stop them from spilling out. "What changed? You  _ hated _ me."

Steve sighed. "I didn't hate you." 

"You did. You  _ all _ hated me. Probably still do." Jesus, why was he doing this? He didn't want to know, didn't want to hear. 

Steve pulled up to 5280 Cherry Lane. The lights were on and Billy could see someone moving around inside. He had forgotten to tell Steve to drop him off down the street a bit. Maybe it would be okay. 

"Look," Steve said, rubbing Billy's thigh with his thumb, "I forgave you a long time ago. I still thought you were an ass, but that night… It was crazy. And you were right. It probably looked really bad, and I shouldn't have lied. And I get you were pissed."

"I shouldn't have-" 

"Just shut up and listen." He took a deep breath as if to steady himself. "I've been…  _ Interested _ in you since you came roaring into the parking lot, blaring Rock You Like a Hurricane." Billy gave him an incredulous look. "I'm serious! I mean, honestly, have you seen how you look in double denim?" They both laughed. "For real, though. Uh… My dick has been pretty interested in you from the start. Just took a while for my head to catch up."

"I still don't get why your head ever did catch up."

Steve fiddled with the keys hanging from his ignition. "That party, you know?" Billy could feel the nervousness seeping from him. "Well, not so much the party. But before. And  _ after _ ." He looked up at Billy and his gaze felt different again, like it kept catching on little details, kept  _ seeing _ . "I never realized you had freckles before."

Heat rushed to Billy's cheeks and he grumbled, "They're a lot more obvious in the summer." 

Steve smiled and Billy couldn't help but memorize the exact curve of his lips, like he'd done every time he caught Steve smiling. But now he knew the way they tasted, just the  _ faintest  _ hint of strawberry from Steve's chapstick. 

"Can I kiss you? I promise my car won't like… Explode or something crazy."

Billy laughed and it was laced with such relief that he could have cried. He felt like an idiot for getting so embarrassed earlier, but that was before. Something had happened since they walked out of Steve's house. Something fundamental had shifted between them, just enough to let in the most miniscule beam of hope. But that was enough for a starved and dying soul like Billy's. That was more than enough. 

"We're being smart, remember?" Billy didn't want to say it, didn't want to see that look on Steve's face. Disappointment."I'm sorry."

"No," Steve said, smiling. "No, you're absolutely right. I'm just- I really want to do this again. Embarrassing bits and all."

Billy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say. You thought it was fucking hilarious." He popped open the car door and planted a foot on the road. "G'night, pretty boy. Be careful, yeah?" 

Billy jogged up to the house before he could change his mind and throw his whole life away for those pretty lips. Strawberry lips. The sound of plates and silverware clinking hit him as soon as he opened the door. Either dinner was just starting or they'd just finished. He ducked into his room and kicked off his boots. 

He stood there in the middle of his room, mind shifting out of focus, thoughts drifting like on a tide. Maybe leaving California  _ wasn't _ the worst thing that had happened to him since his mom took off. Maybe… Maybe it would pan out to be the  _ best _ thing, not that there was much competition, but still…

"Billy?"

He turned. "Hey, Max. What's up?"

She chewed at her lip, studying his face. "Are you okay?" Max glanced over her shoulder, toward the kitchen, then turned back to Billy and lowered her voice. "Are you still avoiding Steve?" Billy shook his head and smiled. "So… everything's okay?" 

"More than okay." 

Max's eyes went wide and she mouthed  _ he kissed you?  _ Billy nodded, his smile growing so big he was probably starting to look psychotic.  _ Steve kissed you? Steve? Steve. He kissed you. Steve.  _

"Jesus, Max," Billy chuckled, gently shoving her face away. "Did you come in here just to annoy me, shitbird?" 

She rolled her eyes. "No,  _ asshole.  _ Dinner's ready." She turned to leave, but was stopped by Billy's soft voice. 

"Maxi? Thank you. For that night…"

Her gaze dropped to the floor and Billy could almost see the events of that night replaying in her head. Billy wished he could pluck those memories from her head and burn them to ash. In two steps, he had crossed the room to her, his arms slinking around her small frame. Max went rigid in his embrace. The only other time Billy had ever held her was  _ that  _ night. 

"I'm gonna keep you safe, Max. I promise."

Max looked up, brows furrowed. "I'm not worried about me, Billy." She pulled away, her gaze sliding away from him again. She adjusted Billy's necklace before she spoke again, her voice so fragile and bruised. “You deserve better.” And then she was gone, off to the kitchen to sit down for a  _ family _ dinner, leaving Billy with  _ that _ ringing in his ears. 

He didn't deserve better... Did he? 

After dinner, Billy got the keys to his Camaro back with a very long  _ talk _ from his father about behaving like a responsible adult, as if Billy wasn't still just a fucking kid. Neil  _ talked _ and  _ talked  _ as if Billy was even listening at all and not thinking about making a surprise visit to the Harrington house after everyone was asleep. 

He didn't, in the end. The Camaro was too loud to try to sneak away in and Billy was pretty sure he'd never see it again if he tried to run off right after getting it back. His dad would probably drive it into the quarry just to spite him. Instead, he quietly locked his door, shucked off his pants, and crawled in bed. 

He didn't pull out the magazine with Steve's lookalike. His Bambi-eyed boy was still fresh in his head. He imagined he hadn't stopped Steve from dropping to his knees right there in the driveway and taking Billy's cock into his mouth. He imagined Steve was  _ good _ , as good as Billy was himself. He imagined a lot of things, so many different ways that night could have played out. Billy didn't even touch himself, just let his hard cock drip lazily onto his stomach. He wanted to save it for that pretty little strawberry flavored mouth. 

Something fluttered to the ground as soon as Billy opened his locker. A note, with neat but hasty writing. Even though it wasn't signed and there was no way anyone would know it was from Steve, Billy still held it close to his chest as he read.

_ My place _

_ 8PM _

_ I still want to, so help me be ready? _

Everything in Billy lurched with excitement. He stuffed the note in his pocket and dug through his locker for a notebook and pen. 

_ Hope you're up for a long night _

He folded the note and waited until the bell had rung and the halls were empty. He walked down the line of lockers until he reached Steve's, and slid the note inside. He sighed. If he had started at the beginning of the school year, their lockers would have been right next to each other. But instead Billy had been shunted to the end, far far away from his pretty boy. 

Billy didn’t know it was possible for a day to drag by so agonizingly slowly. Every time he saw Steve in the halls, there was a twinge of excitement that started in his heart and stopped somewhere in his dick. Just a few more classes. Then basketball practice. The drive home. Dinner. Then Steve’s. Then Steve.

Steve was absolutely  _ glowing _ when he opened the front door. The soft light coming from somewhere inside the house cast him in a cloak of gold. It made Billy’s heart skip. A shy, happy smile spread across Steve’s face and Billy was  _ gone _ . Because that smile was for  _ him _ . Someone was smiling like that because of  _ him. _

"You gonna be out there all night looking like I punched you in the face, or are you gonna come inside?" 

Billy barely heard the words, just shuffled his feet until he was inside, body inches away from Steve's. “So…”

“You hungry?” Steve chewed nervously at his lip.

“Nah, just ate dinner. Are you? I can… wait, if you wanna eat?”

Steve shook his head. The softness Billy had first felt was starting to harden, shift. It was unlike Billy to be so nervous, but he had never met someone like Steve before, someone who made him think that maybe there  _ was _ something out there for him, something that didn’t hurt. They decided, wordlessly, that maybe things would be easier once they were in Steve’s bedroom.

Billy kicked off his boots, placed a shaky hand at the small of Steve’s back, and guided him toward the stairs. Each step felt like Billy was alternating between ascension to some sort of heaven, or a swift descent into an agonizing Hell, because he knew this would either be the best night of his shitshow of an existence so far, or one of the worst. Billy didn’t think we could handle anything else being shoveled onto the trash heap of his life, but he was willing to take the risk if it meant keeping his hold on the exquisite creature before him. 

Steve's bedroom was somehow tidy and messy at the same time. His bed looked like he had just crawled out of it when Billy rang the doorbell, which maybe he had, and there were clothes lazily tossed around the room, but it wasn’t like Billy’s room. Everything in Billy’s room was a small piece of California that his father had so kindly  _ allowed _ him to bring with, a fact of which Billy was constantly reminded. It all meant something to him. Steve’s room looked like he was just borrowing it, like he wasn’t expecting to stay long enough to actually make it his  _ own _ . It made something inside Billy ache.

“How are we doing this?” Steve asked. He kept running his hands through his hair, which was rapidly starting to deflate and go rogue. “I mean, how are you- Like, what do I need to- Y’know what I’m saying?”

Billy chuckled and leaned in to press a soft, reassuring kiss to Steve’s lips. “Yeah, pretty boy, I know what you mean.” Billy smiled and he hoped it looked gentle. He wasn’t very good at gentle. “First off, you’re not gonna be ready until you can say  _ to my face _ that you wanna suck my cock without getting embarrassed.”

Steve nodded. “That’s fair.”

“So, let’s take this slow.”

A cute little whine emanated from Steve’s throat. “Billy… I don’t wanna take it slow. I haven’t been able to think about anything else since you left last night…”

Neither had Billy, but telling Steve that would only strengthen the case  _ against _ being sensible and taking it slowly. “I don’t want to rush into this and freak you out, okay? I don’t want you to get scared and think that what we’re doing is wrong.” 

“Billy, I-”

“Please, Steve. Just give me tonight.”

There was a beat in which neither of them moved. Then a small nod. Then another. Until Steve was nodding properly and pulling Billy into a sweet strawberry kiss and falling. 

Steve's bed was  _ so _ soft, so comfortable. Billy pulled Steve on top of him, settling him between his legs, their mouths still pressed together. Billy was drowning. His lungs were flooding and splitting and spilling over. And he could taste the ocean. He could taste  _ home _ . 

He breathed heavily against Steve's mouth, shaky and aching and so fucking desperate. For more. For home. For Steve to devour him and drown him and keep him for himself. The air felt too heavy, too full, too thick with all the longing Billy had been shoving deep down inside himself since his feet hit Hawkins. Nothing,  _ no one _ had ever left him so utterly incapacitated with a fucking  _ kiss _ . 

His hands slid down Steve's sides and rested on his hips. Slowly, gently, he guided Steve's hips to the side. Steve followed his lead, throwing one leg over Billy's so their thighs were pressed hard up between each other's legs. Billy could feel Steve's dick swelling against his thigh. He swallowed hard. After seeing him in the showers after practice many times, he knew Steve was gifted in that area, and Billy could only  _ imagine _ what he was like hard. But if things went smoothly, he wouldn't have to imagine much longer. 

Bodies shifted again and soon Steve's thigh was replaced by his hand. Billy couldn't have stopped the little moan that escaped his lips if his life had depended on it. He felt Steve smile against his lips, just for a moment, before his mouth moved sweetly down to Billy's neck. Steve's lips skipped across Billy's skin, carrying chills along with them. He shivered involuntarily and it pulled a tinkling laugh from Steve. 

"You like that?" he asked breathily. "And this?" He began to suck at the skin right at the crook of Billy's neck. Billy answered him with a moan. 

Steve's mouth continued to work at Billy's neck as his hand fumbled with Billy's zipper. Steve was obviously still nervous, but Billy could tell how badly he wanted it, could  _ feel _ it, pressed hard against his thigh. They laid like that for  _ ages _ , tangled up in each other, hands exploring every inch, dipping under shirts, slipping down pants. 

Finally,  _ fucking finally _ , Billy's cock was relieved of the confines of his tight jeans, upgraded to the tight grip of Steve's hand. But Steve had stopped sucking on Billy's neck, had lifted his head to look down at where he was holding Billy's dick. He wasn't breathing. Neither of them were. 

"Jesus," Steve finally said, his breath all rushing out with that single word. He squeezed Billy's cock hard, watched a bead of precum leak out and disappear down the other side. "Jesus."

Steve slowly sat up, never taking his hand off Billy, and slid off the end of the bed, onto his knees. Billy scooted down, let his legs dangle off the edge of the bed, and propped himself up on his elbows. It was getting harder and harder to be patient with that  _ mouth _ inches away from his aching cock. 

"Say it," Billy said softly. 

"I wanna suck your dick." Steve sounded almost shell shocked, like he was just now realizing he was about to put another man's dripping cock in his mouth. Billy realized maybe that was just it, up until now it had been a fantasy for both of them. But now that it was about to become reality-

"I can't. I'm sorry." Steve didn't let go, just stared blankly. 

Billy's heart sank,  _ plummeted _ , down into the absolute darkest depths of himself. He had let Steve move too quickly and now he was spooked. Now Billy was going to lose him. 

"It's okay, Steve. We can stop. Don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"No." Steve was quiet when he spoke. "No, I want to."

Billy frowned. "You don't look like you want to…"

Steve ran his thumb over Billy's frenulum, slicked with pre, and it sent a shockwave through Billy. Then Steve licked his lips slowly, gaze flicking back and forth between Billy's eyes and his dick. 

"I know I won't be any good and I don't want to disappoint you."

Billy sighed with relief. He remembered his first time giving head, how utterly terrified he had been. "Steve… You were probably pretty nervous the first time you ate a girl out, right?" Steve nodded. "So… How did you know you were doing it right?" 

Steve shifted on his knees, rubbing absent mindedly at the head of Billy's cock. "Well… You can tell they like something when they moan."

Billy's voice was husky when he replied. "And what, you don't think I moan, pretty boy?" Steve stared at him. "Besides, you already know what feels good for you. Just gotta replicate that. You'll be fine. You'll be  _ good."  _

Steve nodded, then slowly dipped his head down, pink lips parted, tongue cresting his bottom lip. His mouth was hot and wet and Billy suddenly had the very bizarre thought that his dick was going to taste like strawberries when Steve was done with it. Billy ran his fingers through Steve's hair, something he'd wanted to do since he first saw the magnificent mane. Billy was drowning again in the heady bliss that was Steve Harrington, clinging to the boy's brunette locks like that was the only thing that could save him, not that Billy minded drowning like this, in Steve. It wasn't the worst way to go, not by a long shot. 

Steve was  _ stunning _ , sitting there on his knees, pink mouth full of Billy's thick cock, Bambi eyes glossy and staring up at him. He was everything Billy had never allowed himself to have. Gentle. Sweet. Caring. Something worth the risk of invoking his father's wrath. Something that could actually break through the walls Billy had spent his entire life building around himself. Something that… Something… Oh god. 

He moaned, bucking into Steve's mouth. The boy's eyes watered, but he hummed excitedly, lapping at the underside of Billy's cock like it was some kind of goddamn  _ treat _ , like Billy hadn't just almost choked him with his dick. The tip of Steve's tongue ran up to tease at Billy's slit and another moan tumbled out into the air. One of Steve's hands slipped under Billy to squeeze his ass and Billy almost lost it. He was riding the kind of high he'd been chasing for years and was never quite able to catch. 

Everything else fell away. It was just him, back sunk into Steve's luxurious bed, eyes closed and mouth half open. And it was just Steve, moaning around Billy's cock, fingers digging into the muscle of Billy's ass. Nothing else. Nothing.

Pleasure built in him like a distant storm, raging ever closer. When his orgasm finally hit him it was violent and beautiful and Steve took it all. He swallowed Billy's cum with a moan that would live forever in a special little place in Billy's mind. 

"Jesus fuck, Harrington." Billy hadn't opened his eyes yet, didn't know Steve had gotten up until he was crawling onto the bed and laying on top of Billy. 

"Wasn't total shit?" he asked with a smile. 

Billy laughed and looked up into those Bambi eyes. "No, not bad at all, especially for your first time."

"You gonna show me how it's  _ really _ done?" There was a sly smirk on his lips and Billy loved it. Steve knew what he wanted. And how to get it. 

He wasted no time rolling Steve onto his back and pulling him out. Finally seeing Steve's dick hard, he was not disappointed. He was enamored. Billy kissed the head softly, licking at the trail of precum leaking down Steve's shaft. His lips parted slowly and he savored the taste and feel as Steve pushed smoothly into Billy's mouth. 

But then a sound came from just outside the bedroom window.  _ That _ sound. That bizarre trill. Billy froze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write much smut, so I hope it's not awful.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me. And feedback is so greatly appreciated.


	4. FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy finally learns exactly what it is that haunts Steve Harrington.

Billy swallowed hard and it pulled a strange sound from Steve. The brunette was looking at Billy in a dazed, horrified sort of way. His cock slid slowly from Billy's mouth as the boy sat up straight and turned his head toward the window. That shrill noise came again, as if the thing making it was sitting down below Steve’s window, waiting for them to pop their heads out.

Billy’s knees nearly gave out on him as he stood, something that wasn’t helped by Steve’s insistent tugging on his arm. Billy held up a finger in Steve’s direction and slowly made his way toward the window, as if the creature would somehow hear him coming if he moved too quickly. For all Billy knew, it could. Just as Billy reached the window, the sound came again. Yet, this time it seemed to come from the other side of the house.

“Did it move or are we surrounded?” Billy hissed.

Steve’s eyes were wide, horrified. “I don’t know. Both?”

“Can they get in?” Billy whispered, making his way back toward the bed, where Steve was clutching at the sheets.

Steve half shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know, Billy. Probably.” He crawled toward the blonde, reaching out and grabbing his hand as soon as he could. “We need something to protect ourselves.”

“What about your crazy bat?”

Steve hung his head and sighed. “It’s in my car.”

“‘Course it is,” Billy grumbled.

Steve shot him a nasty look, but it faded almost as soon as it came. Billy just sighed and licked his lips. He had grown used to that kind of look cast in his direction, but it had been a while since it had come from Steve. He didn’t like it.

“Your garage is attached, yeah? I’m sure we can find  _ something _ in there.” Billy hastily pulled on his clothes, motioning for Steve to do the same. The second Steve had finished tugging his shirt on, Billy grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the garage. 

On the main floor, the noises were louder and more numerous. It made Billy’s skin crawl.The boys crept their way to the garage, slipping through the door as quietly as possible. Billy reached out his hand to turn on the light, but Steve snatched it away quickly.

“The door leading to the backyard has a window. They’ll see the light,” Steve hissed.

Billy simply nodded and moved forward again. The light spilling in from the hallway was just enough for him to make out how very empty the garage was. There was no work bench, no tool chest, no car. He wondered, vaguely, if Steve was even allowed to park in the garage while his parents were away. He thought not.

Billy fumbled along the wall, aiming for the far corner he couldn’t quite see. Something hard and heavy caught his foot, tripping him and sending him straight to the concrete floor, followed closely by Steve. They landed with a thick sound that seemed to ring in Billy’s ears before it was drown out by a sharp trill just on the other side of the garage wall. They both scrambled to their feet, tripping over each other and dashing every which way, searching desperately for something,  _ anything _ to fend off what was outside. Billy still didn’t know what they looked like, just knew they scared the shit out of Steve.

A loud crash drew their attention away from their tasks for the briefest moment. Billy’s heart was pounding so hard it was starting to hurt. He had always known he’d die young, just never thought it would be like this, in a dark garage with the boy of his dreams, mauled to death by… What had Steve called them? Alien dogs from Hell?

“You find anything?” Steve said, his voice strangled.

Billy’s hand fell on something cool and smooth. “A fucking hose!” he hissed in exasperation.

“Wait…” Billy heard Steve shuffle around before his voice came again. “Billy, c’mere. Lift me up.”

“Are you fucking serious right now? If one of those things gets in here-”

“Hurry up!”

Billy huffed and made his way toward Steve’s voice. He squatted down, wrapped his arms firmly around Steve’s thighs, and hauled him into the air. “Mind telling me why I’m doing this? As much as I love having your dick pressed against my face, now’s not really the time.”

“The ceiling’s like… Not finished. There’s plywood across the rafters. And I’m pretty sure this is where my parents store all the shit they might need some day but don’t want to have to look at. Gimme your lighter.”

Billy growled and shifted, holding Steve with one arm as he fumbled around in his pocket for his Zippo. “You lose it and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Steve took the lighter from Billy’s hand. “Priorities, man.”

Billy heard the wheel flick before a small flame bloomed above him. Steve swiveled around, sweeping his arm in large, slow arcs. “Well?”

“I think… Hold on.” The flame went out and there was a loud scuffing noise before something cold and hard hit billy in the arm.

“Jesus, Harrington!” he hissed. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry…” Steve sounded a bit sheepish. “It’s an axe. It’s been used, like, twice.”

Billy shifted Steve into one arm again as he took the axe from him. His arms were starting to get tired. “Move it along, pretty boy. I’m gonna be useless if I have to hold your fat ass all night.”

There was another loud crash, this time coming from the door leading into the backyard, and Billy nearly dropped Steve. “Shit, shit, shit.” Billy could hear Steve’s panicked movements, knew he was groping around desperately. “Fuck. Heads up. Don’t know what this is but it’s heavy and got a wooden handle.”

Something cold hit Billy’s arm again, but this time he was prepared. He grabbed it from Steve and dropped his arm, the thing in his hand making a very loud metallic clang. “Fuck!” Billy quickly maneuvered Steve back to the ground, shoving what he suspected to be a shovel into the boy’s hands.

There was a sick wet thud mingled with a loud splintering coming from the door. Then again. Trilling started up all around them, eerie and wrong.

“We’re gonna die.” Steve’s voice was lost, somewhere between horror and defeat.

"We're not gonna die." They  _ were _ gonna die. "And I thought you've fought these before."

"Doesn't make them less terrifying, asshole! And I've never fought them with… What is this? A shovel?!" 

Billy just grunted in response and pressed his shoulder against Steve's. He barely had time to raise the axe in his hands when the door exploded inward. Moonlight slanted in, spilling over a grotesque, glistening body. Something shifted where its face should have been, opening wide like a blossoming flower. In the span of a single second, stretched out into an eternity, Billy stepped forward and brought the axe down hard on the creature's head. It squealed and collapsed, the petals of its face falling limp. 

"Well…" Billy huffed, looking back at Steve. "That wasn't too bad."

Steve let out a pitiful sound. "Great. You fucking jinxed us. Thanks." 

As though to prove Steve right, two more creatures came scrambling in through the remains of the door, odd mouths already open, rows upon rows of teeth glittering in the dim light. Billy stumbled backward, axe rising too slowly. 

They were on top of him. The stench of rotting leaves and meat hit him at the same time his body connected with the floor. A yell ripped through the air and Billy didn't know if it was his or Steve's. He moved to swing the axe, but, to his horror, his hand was empty. He was defenseless. The mouth open before him came down, down, down. It was like time had stumbled and slowed, and Billy was the only one who noticed. 

His fingers wrapped tight around the slick, meaty throat of the creature bearing down on him. He could feel the muscles flex and strain as it tried to devour him. He couldn't die like this. He had things left to do, people left to take care of. Who would give Steve the affection he deserved? Who would protect Max? 

Before he could form a plan, something hit the creature with a crack. Steve swung the shovel down on the writhing form with a loud grunt, half decapitating it. Billy scrambled to his feet and retrieved his axe, curling his fingers around the handle just as more forms barreled into the garage. 

The space filled with the sounds of grunting, trilling, growls and hisses, bones crunching, skin splitting, and hearts beating far beyond what either boy thought possible. Time ticked on as bodies stacked and arms grew tired. It ticked on until at last the creatures stopped coming and the boys collapsed on the slick concrete floor. Steve’s head rested wearily on Billy’s shoulder, his lids fluttering closed in exhaustion.

Billy looked down at him, at his pale skin splattered with blood and slime and god knew what else, at his once perfect hair plastered to his neck and face with sweat, at the way his body relaxed so completely against Billy’s.

They spent hours digging a hole, filling it with the crumpled and grotesque bodies of what Steve referred to as demodogs. The night mocked them, seeming to swing more swiftly toward dawn the faster they tried to move. By the time the last shovel full of dirt was packed down, the sun was streaking out across the horizon in violent shades of orange and pink.

Steve sat down, pressing his back to a tree. He looked utterly exhausted, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, clothes covered in dirt and slime and blood. Billy dropped into a squat in front of him and rested his hand on Steve's knee. The boy looked up, sleep starting to glaze over his honied eyes. 

"You okay?" Billy asked, voice as gentle as he knew how to make it. 

"Me?" Steve asked, bewildered. "You just fought off a horde of creatures you've never seen before and you're asking if  _ I'm  _ okay?" Billy didn't reply, just furrowed his brows. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired." 

Billy could feel the lie at the edges of Steve's words, but he didn't press. "Why don't you shower and go to bed? I'll put everything away."

"You're leaving?" Steve asked. His voice was low, breathless, like he hadn't meant to say it. 

It took Billy by surprise. Of course he had planned to leave. It wasn't like either of them was going to be in the mood to continue what they had been doing earlier. What other reason would Steve have to keep Billy around? 

"You don't want me to?"

Steve shook his head slowly, dark eyes tracing the lines of Billy's face. His face was shadowed with something he was clearly trying to hide, but Billy wasn't sure what it was. Was he afraid of being alone after what had just happened? Was he hurt that Billy was going to leave instead of asking to stay? 

Billy grabbed both of Steve's hands in his and hauled the boy to his feet. He slinked a tired arm around Steve's waist and guided him back inside. They peeled off their clothes and threw them immediately into the washer before heading up to Steve's bathroom. It was quiet, save for the patter of their feet on the stairs and their heavy breaths. Steve started the shower. 

The water was warm, soothing against Billy's tired muscles. It had been a very cold night and the heat helped to bring him back to the edge of liveliness. A few minutes in, when they had gotten the grime off themselves, Steve laid his head on Billy's shoulder and slinked his arms around his waist. It was such a gentle gesture that Billy didn't know what to do for a solid five seconds. 

Slowly, carefully, as if he might spook him, Billy wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him tight to his chest. Steve hummed contentedly, eyes fluttering closed and a small smile skipping into his face. 

"M' sore, Bills," he mumbled quietly. "Tired."

Billy's heart skipped and his bones sang. Bills. The only thing he'd ever been called aside from Billy was  _ faggot _ . It was such a small change from Billy to Bills, but it was  _ something _ and it was  _ Steve's.  _ Billy held him a little tighter. 

He bent over as gently as he could so as not to disturb Steve and fiddled with the faucet, rerouting the water to fill the tub. He nudged the plug with his toe and heard it clink closed. It was difficult to sit down with Steve nearly asleep in his arms, but he somehow managed. Billy rested his back against the wall and nestled Steve between his legs. The boy twisted sideways and laid down against Billy's chest. 

Steve spoke and his voice was so soft that Billy barely heard it above the sound of the faucet. "Thanks for staying." He was passed out a minute later. 

Billy turned off the water with his foot, trying not to wake Steve. Silence fell around them, heavy and calming. There were no strange noises outside. Just the deep, gentle breaths coming from the brunette nestled against Billy's chest.

It  _ ached _ . He wasn't ready for  _ this.  _ He wasn't ready for soft moments and nicknames and thank yous. He wasn't ready to hold a sleeping Steve in his arms. He wasn't ready to have another anchor tied around his neck, another reason to stay in Hawkins instead of hauling ass to California as soon as he could. Maybe he was reading into it too much. Maybe Steve was just utterly exhausted. 

Billy hoped it was more than that. 

A sharp sliver of light peaked in through the curtains and Billy watched the motes of dust dance lazily through it. Steve was finally sleeping soundly with his head nuzzled into Billy's neck, his fluffy hair tickling at Billy's cheek. He had tossed vs turned most of the night, whimpering and clinging hard to Billy's arms. It was quiet, now, peaceful, and Steve hadn't moved in an hour. Billy's eyes and body ached from physical exhaustion, the crash that came after adrenaline, and the fact that he had not yet slept. 

A small shift and quiet little groan startled Billy out of the half daze he had fallen into.

"Bills?" The sharp rise in pitch, the sudden intake of breath, the way Steve's lanky body jerked all made Billy's heart ache. 

"I'm here, pretty boy." Billy kept his voice soft, casting it over Steve like a weighted blanket. "I've got you. You're safe."

Steve lifted his head and looked up. The hard edge in his eyes softened, then melted completely. "Did you even sleep?"

Billy kissed him gently. "Go back to sleep, yeah? You were doing so well."

Steve frowned. "You haven't. I kept you up, didn't I? I… Don't sleep well."

Billy sighed. "It's not you, princess. I wanted to watch over you. Last night was fucking terrifying. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

Steve blinked rapidly, the shine in his eyes growing brighter. "Bills." His lips met Billy's and they didn't part for a long time. "You…" Steve didn't finish his thought, just climbed on top of Billy. 

Their bodies, still naked from the bath earlier, were hot against each other. Steve's long fingers trailed over Billy's pec, playing hesitantly with his nipples. The moan that escaped him was soft, almost a sigh of relief. Steve bent down and took Billy's nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. There was that same moan. 

"I want you to fuck me." Steve's voice was hushed against Billy's chest, dripping with lust, and it killed Billy not to immediately take him up on the offer. 

"Babe… We should take it slow…" He caressed Steve's sides, ready to maneuver him back down onto the bed. 

Steve shook his head. "No… I want you.  _ That _ ," he said, pointing toward the garage, "was insane. And the way you… Took care of me after. Bathed me. Stayed up all night… Billy, this isn't a normal  _ thing _ . We're  _ not _ normal. I don't want whatever  _ this _ is to be normal, either." He reached down and grabbed Billy's cock, which was already hardening. "I know you want it, too." Steve's lips grazed over Billy's ear. "I want you to be my first. And I want it now."

Billy moaned, rolling and pinning Steve on his back. "Got lube and condoms, pretty boy? I know you do, sexy thing like you." 

Steve  _ blushed _ and pointed at his nightstand. Billy yanked open the drawing, pulling out a bottle of lube and ripping a condom from the strip. He wrapped one hand around both their cocks and slowly began stroking them together while he ripped the condom package open with his teeth. 

"I'm gonna ruin you for other guys, baby," Billy groaned. Steve opened his mouth as if to say something, and Billy found himself imagining the words would have been 'I don't want anyone else.'

Billy set the opened condom on the bed for quick access and spread lube over his fingers. He bent down to press a hard kiss to Steve's lips as he rubbed at his rim. Steve shuddered and let out a soft whine. Ever so slowly, Billy pushed his finger inside. Steve made a strange sound. 

"I know it feels weird, babe. Just give it a couple minutes and if you don't like it, we'll stop, okay?" Steve nodded. 

Billy caught Steve's lips with his own again, kissing him deeply, and began stretching him gently. He quickly found Steve's prostate and pressed on it. Steve let out the most indecent gasp Billy had ever heard. It was high and sweet and dripping with desperate longing. 

Steve reached up, fingers entangling in Billy's curls, face drawing closer. His eyes were wide and glossy and Billy thought that if he looked long enough, he would fall into them and never find his way back out. He found that maybe he wouldn't mind. 

Billy's fingers, thick and experienced, took Steve apart one moan at a time until he was begging for Billy's cock, a request that didn't need to be voiced twice. Billy rolled the condom on, was gentle when he pushed himself into Steve, watching his face the whole time for any sign that he'd changed his mind. He found none. 

The space between their bodies shrunk until there was nothing left, until it was just skin and heat and sweat. The morning curled around them, hazy and golden. Billy rocked his hips into Steve, breath coming out in deep moans and curses. Steve was everything Billy had imagined he would be. He was warm and lean and tight. He dug his fingers into Billy's back bucked against him like he needed  _ more _ . His moans trickled from him in a constant stream and Billy soaked them up like he would die without them. Steve was everything Billy had been terrified of catching hold of, because he knew how much it would hurt when his father ripped it away. 

Billy wrapped his arms around Steve, held him close like he was afraid the boy would disappear. One of Steve's arms found its way around Billy, the other slipping between them to stroke his leaking cock and they laid there, holding each other, as Billy continued to rut deep into him. It was heaven. It was heaven and Billy was nearing the edge of a precipice. And then he fell, thrust deep into Steve, and came hard. Steve's hand gripped tighter around his own cock and within seconds he followed after Billy, plunged right over the edge. 

This time, it was Steve who watched over a sleeping Billy, watched until his own eyes grew tired, watched until his head grew heavy and his thoughts seemed to float away, watched until he kissed Billy on the cheek and drifted off to sleep. 


End file.
